Leverage
by digitalruki
Summary: Drake's not nearly as cool as most people think. Drake/Josh


disclaimer: I don't own drake or josh, or drake and josh.

Note: I wrote this a long time ago.

***

Lying on the couch, playing video games until two a.m. That's what Drake had made of me. Stale popcorn kernels were pocketed in the creases of our shirts, and my throat was parched from all the sugar. I vaguely remember Drake choking on a gulp of cola, me patting him on the back, which I'm not sure was any help. But I didn't ask, and he didn't tell. The screen was silent now, muted. The word 'Pause' flashed in neon colors, hypnotizing us.

I couldn't hold out for much longer. Drake was used to this, but my normal bedtime had passed me up four hours ago. I was long past exhaustion, simply existing inside the screen. I couldn't really taste the food, or feel the cold of night.

I did, however, feel the distinct tingle of fine foreign hairs on my arm. Drake had leaned over, sliding off the backrest and my shoulder, to land nearly in my lap. From the look in his eyes, he was probably more tired than I was. I figured he hadn't slept at all in the past few days since the beginning of summer.

This position was not the most comfortable. I shifted, lifting him up and brushing the popcorn off my chest. He mumbled something indecipherable and clutched at my arm reflexively, so as mot to fall. I returned the grip, lifting him up.

"C'mon, bro," I whispered, surprised at the volume of my own voice in the silence. It was deeper than I had expected.

We stumbled to the ladder leading to his bunk, and I placed his arms on the bars, trying to encourage him to climb up. I sure as hell wasn't going to carry him the rest of the way. But, knowing Drake, he probably expected me to. Especially in his current condition. I gave him a boost, and finally he reluctantly pulled himself up onto the platform above. I tried letting go, but he started to fall again. Pushing harder, I clutched onto the bars for support.

He started to let go. Oh, for God's sake. I gave him one last shove, hard. The top of his body made it to the platform with a thunk, but his legs hung limp over the side. Rolling my eyes, I shoved the rest of him up and climbed up after. Hopefully, I could coax him into his bed without having to drag him any farther. He was really pitiful, sometimes.

Worse than me, even though most people thought the opposite.

I wanted to return to my bed as soon as possible, but Drake had other ideas. He stubbornly remained sprawled on the floor next to his bed. Rolling him onto the comforter was quick work, easy. I at least had some muscle to show from my trips to the gym, besides the loss of my double chin. Sometimes I teased Drake about being taller and stronger than him. Right now, though, he seemed to making fun of me for it. Why walk ten feet to your bed when your big, strong stepbrother could do it for you?

Deciding that on the comforter was as good as it was going to get, I turned to climb down to my own bed, only to be thrown in the opposite direction. I admit he had leverage and gravity on his side. But his aim was too good for him to be fully zonked. I could tell he was probably smirking now. Or yawning. Either way, his cheeks moved, and I realized my head was touching them.

I started to get up again, but decided against it. I was really just too tired, and Josh was warm and it was cold in our room. Or maybe that was just my excuse.

Either way I wasn't moving, whether Drake or I liked it or not. I was nearly asleep a few seconds later, when I felt something pinching my left ear.

Drake poked playfully at my earring, the one he had talked me into getting. On the left ear, not the right. No, I wasn't quite ready for that yet.

As if by telepathy, Drake chose that moment to speak. "Think you'll ever get one for the other ear?" he mumbled softly.

I considered ignoring the comment. If he was implying what I suspected he was implying, then it was a subject I would rather avoid.

It was something we mutually avoided as brothers and friends, and ignored for the most part. I was careful to hide it, Drake was careful to deny it. After musing carefully, all I could reply with was a jerk of my head to free my ear from his grip. Which stung, momentarily. I'd only gotten the thing a couple weeks ago.

I could see his face now, and his eyes were open. They glowed faintly, reflecting the light of the TV screen across the room. There was nothing in them except the dreamy glaze of exhaustion. Nothing I could discern from his expression.

The thought of leaving occurred again. Perhaps a sleepover with Drake wasn't the best idea. I shifted, creating a void. I couldn't see his face anymore, but I could tell it was following mine. He reached out and grabbed my arm again, but I didn't need the support and neither did he. This hand was asking a distinct question. And although I couldn't answer, I did stop and wait for a hint.

"Hey," a voice said, clearly, "you're not going to stay?"

I remained perfectly still. No, I couldn't. "I was just kidding," he added, as an afterthought. Leverage.

After waiting briefly for a reply, he gave up. "Fine," he said, turning over on the mattress. "Do what you want."

It was a loaded question. However harmless he said it, it was loaded. Pouncing, I grabbed his shoulders and pinned him flat on his bed. I could see the initial shock on his face, glowing in his eyes. This time I had the upper-hand, and he was trapped.

"Listen," I growled, "I could take full advantage of you, so watch what you say." It was a cautionary threat: Don't mess with me. I may be strong but I don't know if I can control myself.

He stared straight back at me, at first in fear and then in defiance. His face reverted back to its original demeanor, albeit a tad more awake. My initial fears began to fade as I watched him muse calmly over my threat.

The reply only frustrated me more. "Whatever," he said, face straight. "I don't care as long as you don't wake me up." He yawned deeply. "I'm exhausted."

As if to mock me, suddenly my own exhaustion returned twice as strong, and I felt myself slipping almost immediately. I exhaled, relieved and spent. "Yea," I mumbled as I fell onto the bed beside him. "Me too." Apparently, I would be sleeping in Drake's bed after all tonight.

Of course, Drake didn't heed my warning at all. Either he didn't remember it or he didn't actually consider me a threat, because he went on teasing me. He teased me more, actually, than he ever had before, so I have the sneaking suspicion he took it as an invitation.

But that's Drake for you. He's not nearly as cool as most people think.


End file.
